


How to  unlock the loveliest of bosoms with the key of worldliness.

by annebenedicte



Category: Bramwell (TV), Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-04-23 13:45:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19152247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annebenedicte/pseuds/annebenedicte
Summary: What if time had shrunk and Georgian England had blended into Victorian...Maybe Anne Lister has been born a little later - anyway, she goes to London and meets Dr. Bramwell's daughter ...(title from Anne's diaries)The paragraphs in italics are from AL's diaries





	1. Chapter 1

New pages of Anne Lister’s diaries have recently resurfaced, and after deciphering them, I shall attempt here to select the most relevant passages…

Anne has recently discovered she is suffering from a venereal disease, caught from Marianna, who is now married to Charles. 

The first paragraph is from the original letters, then from Monday the 1st, the newly discovered 

_Monday 25 March [Halifax] M— said, very sweetly & with tears at the bare thought, she could never bear me to do anything wrong with… anyone in my own rank of life. She could bear it better with an inferior, where the danger of her being supplanted could not be so great. But to get into any scrape would make her pine away. She thought she could not bear it. I never before believed she loved me so dearly & fondly. She has more romance than I could have thought & I am satisfied… I thought of its being my birthday, but let it pass without notice. How time steals away! What will the next year bring to pass? May I improve it more than the last!_

 

**_Monday 1 April (Halifax)_ **

Decided today to go to London and consult with Dr Bramwell, as my own physician appears unable to prescribe me the proper medicine. Surely a London physician will know what to do.  I will be gone for a week or so, as I do not want to leave my aunt for too long. If he finds a cure, I shall write to M. and advise her to consult him as well.

 

**_Friday 5 April (London)_ **

Arrived this morning in London. Found tolerable lodgings near Hyde Park – I asked the landlady to air the mattress once more, as it did not seem quite clean. Ate at the table d’hote – boiled pigeons, potatoes, cheese and jellies. The food was not as fresh as what we had at Shibden, and I felt a little nauseated afterwards. I am going to see Dr Bramwell in a few hours.

Saw Dr. Bramwell an hour ago . I found him a most intelligent and compassionate man . He was most helpful with my predicament and recommended I stopped Haywell’s powders and went on with the tincture of opium and hydr. Ox., adding a syringe of mercury a day. I will see him once again before I go. When I was leaving, I collided into the most delicious creature I have seen in a long time. I had to reach out to stabilise her as she almost fell, and even through my gloves her skin felt soft and velvety. I tipped my hat to her and asked Dr Bramwell for an introduction. He told me his daughter was a doctor too and had recently opened an infirmary in the East End. I would never have thought such a lovely young lady could be a physician, but surely it means her mind must be as good as her figure, and we could possibly get on very well. I told them I was very interested in that infirmary – the Thrift – having myself dabbled in medicine, and enquired whether it would be possible to visit it. Miss Bramwell told me she was there everyday and I would be welcome.

I had not hoped for such an auspicious encounter -this stay in London might turn out more interesting than I had thought.

**_Saturday 6 April_ **

Had breakfast at the lodgings – the tea had boiled but the bread was fresh and the jam tasty. Had seconds. Decided to go to the Thrift today – strike while the iron is hot. Asked the landlady to press my blue waistcoat, as it does not draw too much to my pallid complexion and thus gives me more confidence in myself.

I was appalled by the Thrift’s surroundings – if I had a daughter, I would not allow her to work in such an environment. My boots and skirt were muddy and my watch almost got lifted as I descended from the hansom. The infirmary’s door was opened by a cheeky urchin who told me Miss Bramwell was “operating”. I took a seat and waited, noting that inside at least hygiene was well maintained. About fifteen minutes later, Miss Bramwell came out of the operating room. In her bloodied apron and with dishevelled hair, she looked if possible even more comely than the previous day. I kissed her hand politely but if I’d dared, would have wanted to do so much more…

She shew [sic] me the infirmary and I constated it was indeed a good little place – two beds were empty and the rest occupied by people with various ailments. Then I made a blunder by calling her Miss Bramwell, and her frown made me hastily apologise and give her her proper title. I should have thought better – when as a woman you earn the right to be a doctor, you are naturally proud of being so. I thus humbly apologised and offered to take her to tea to make amends. She blushed prettily and accepted the offer for tomorrow. I shall take her to Brown’s on Highcleve Road – I have heard much good about their high tea.

**_Sunday 7 April_ **

Woke up with a headache. I took a pinch of camphor and laudanum to dissipate it – I should not want Miss Bramwell to see me ill. I did not sleep a wink last night – thoughts of Miss Bramwell occupied my mind. Also, the mattress has proven uncomfortable. Breakfast tolerable. Went for a long walk to keep busy until tea time. Stopped at a tailors’ to ask about material for a new redingote – my aunt gave me five pounds for my stay, and I intend to put it to good use.

I could feel my hands tremble on my way to the Bramwells – I did not use to be as nervous, and perhaps it is because I am no longer used to London. Of course, Miss Bramwell would not be a suitable match as she is of inferior descent, but if we suit each other – who knows? Surely matters of class do not matter more than matters of love.  When she descended the stairs, I was once more enveloped in a vision of loveliness. I took her arm to guide her to the hansom, and she leant on me delicately. She smells of sweet orange and bergamot and something else I could not quite ascertain. I told her so and she laughed – a frank and loud laugh, not quite as ladylike as I like – and said it was probably the smell of ether which she could never quite get rid of.

Tea held up to its expectations, in terms of food as in terms of company. Miss Bramwell proved to be a most intelligent conversationalist. We exchanged on the matters of science and medicine, and she was curious about my time learning anatomy in Paris. She was so excited by what I was telling her, in fact, that she laid her hand on my arm, and that simple touch sent tingles all over my body and soul. Even thought I keep trying to convince myself she is not for me – indeed, she told me she was promised to a Dr O’Neill, I cannot help but think I could convince her otherwise. It does not seem fair that after M. , another kindred spirit should escape me through marriage to another. I managed to keep myself in check and just relax and enjoy the slight touch. We talked about headaches – she is a sufferer too - and she is in agreement with me – blood-letting, which has been suggested to us both, is a detrimental option. In the hansom back to her house, I put my hand on her thigh and she let me – I kissed her hand again, not daring to ask for more, but I did ask for permission to use her Christian name. So in future we will be Eleanor and Anne – so much more intimate. I do think I have made a good impression on her, and my idea of her has not changed – her beauty could not have been mistaken, but her soul and her brain are as worthy as I had hoped. She agreed to go and hear La Traviata with me in three days and to accompany me to diner afterwards. If we had been in York. I would have invited her to Shibden H., but here in London I will have to find a suitable dining place – maybe Simpson’s or Kettner’s. I will write to my aunt tonight and tell her not to expect me home as planned – the pleasure of Miss Bramwell’s company will keep me in London a little longer. I hope my aunt remains in tolerable health meanwhile.

 

**_Thursday 11 April_ **

Have been very busy with visiting various people I had to see. Went to Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth and found them much diminished with age – their wits are still present but their health not so much. Went to see the Misses Finch, too, and enjoyed listening to their niece play the piano. Said niece was eager to be presented to me, but she is still a schoolchild and not much interesting.  Also paid a visit to Mrs. Nothomb – she had quite a gathering present and we had a good time of it at first, playing charades and the Name Game. I left when they began a round of Blind Man’s Buff, a game I find most vulgar. Some pretty young ladies there – Miss Brown and Miss Heywith, for instance – but none with the grace of Miss Bramwell. Found their conversation futile and inconsistent.

I enjoyed the opera today, and the company of Eleanor even more. In the darkness of the theatre, I dared a kiss on her shoulder, and she did not seem appalled or afraid. Indeed, she came a little closer to me. The soprano reached her highest notes with ease and the public behaved properly, not clapping at undue instances, which I dislike very much. Then I took Eleanor to the ladies’ dining-room at Simpson’s and we made an excellent meal of roast mutton leg, peas, French cheese and grapes and other fruits. Once again I wished that we had been at Shibden, where we would have been allowed some privacy after diner. I would not have asked to come in, but she invited me to have a hot drink with her at her house. Her father was at his club – I learnt he is retired from the Army. Once we had sat down on the sofa, I could not resist telling her how much I enjoyed her company, and how much I wished we could have longer together. She told me the feeling was mutual and emboldened by her statement, I knelt down at her feet and laid my head on her gown. I do not know how far I would have gone if her servant had not interrupted us with the coffee – maybe it is better so, I would not want to frighten her. This time, she told me how much she was afraid her fiancée would forget her during his stay in America. I replied that had she been mine, I would never have been able to leave without her, and her eyes moistened. I offered my handkerchief but attempted to dry her tears myself, and for one sweet moment she lain against me, her head on my shoulder and her bosom displayed for my gaze. I had to use all my self-restraint not to cover it with kisses…

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little musical accompaniment (listen carefully and remember - which ones were in Bramwell ? 
> 
> https://youtu.be/olqjkhUZ1ec

**_Saturday 13 April_ **

Slept better last night – I had asked the landlady to air the mattress again, and it may have made a difference. Did not see Eleanor yesterday for she had to spend all day at the Thrift and the night accompanying her father at a soiree. Missed her very much – how strange, since I have known her but a few days. I must keep a tighter leash on my sentiments.

Since I could not see Eleanor, spent a little while on my studies – some Greek and the first and second theorems of Euclid. Then went riding on the Ring – I do not like to be hampered by skirts, and wish I could ride like a man, but that would cause such a scandal that they would hear in Yorks. and it would not serve my reputation well. Then I went walking and thinking, all the while making plans to know Eleanor better – what could I say to her that would endear her to me? I have no fortune and no place yet to call home, so not much to offer her, and even though I do not think she is a cupboard lover, she must be ensured security. Forgot to have luncheon, so was glad of a copious supper.

_Dined on gravy soup, stewed eel, a hot fricandeau de veau, & a little hashed hare, both very good. Fritters, dropt thro’ a spoon with a round hole an inch in diameter at the bottom of it, light & excellent. Swiss cheese Gruyère & pears. A bottle of common wine of which I had only about 3 glasses… Sent a few things to be washed yesterday, which the woman brought back this evening. Her charge higher than I should have paid in York._

Tonight I have been invited to a séance at the Hillfords’. Although I put my trust in science and have not much belief in the occult, I understand how comforting it must be to be able to contact dead loved ones and am ready to go there with an open mind.

**_Sunday 14 April_ **

I am all in a dither this morning. The séance may have upset me more than I thought. No one spoke to me directly, but the medium contacted many a dead, including Mrs Finchley’s deceased husband and Miss Hampton’s mother. They both appeared very shaken up by the experience, and I myself felt a sense of unease I could not explain rationally. After all, if we believe what He tells us, we shall have eternal life by His side, and why not imagine a means of communication between the realms. Had a good breakfast that helped dissipate the weirdness – eggs and ham and two pieces of toast with butter and honey.

Suddenly wondering why I have not paid more attention when M. shew [ sic] me how to do my hair, and why I have not brought my best hat. Second-best seems underwhelming for going out with Miss Bramwell. I pray she will not be offended by my appearance. I shall take her to walk along the Serpentine, as the weather today is fine and no sign of rain. I was lucky enough to find yesterday a copy of _Les reveries d’un promeneur solitaire_ by JJ Rousseau in a very fine leather binding, and will give in to her – it will be most suitable for the occasion.

We had I believe an enjoyable day. I made sure to compliment her a lot on her figure and her accomplishments, and to tell her how brave I thought she had been in opening the Thrift. She recounted how she had been driven out of the hospital, and how the Thrift allowed her to practice medicine as she wished. She told me about the anaesthetist, Dr. Joe Marsham, and how he had been most helpful. I wonder at her not looking for more refined company – I understand both Dr. Marsham and her nurse are of common descent – but she says they are good and decent people. I asked it I could possibly join her there for a day, as I am supposed to go back to Yorks. anon. She agreed and I am most pleased about that – she told me they had an operation planned which interests me greatly – a cholecystostomy. I have not been present at such an endeavour before. When I took her back to her house, her father was alighting from his carriage at the same time, and so I could not do much to show her my affection. I pressed her hand between mine and put my feelings in my eyes, trusting she would read them accordingly.  I know not where my sentiments are leading me – my heart tells me I find Eleanor a most agreeable person, and that I would like to go further with her to show her my love, and yet I fear she would be appalled if she knew how I am.

Though she is a doctor, I find her innocent in matters of human nature. She told me today of a patient who had come in the infirmary dressed as a woman and who had revealed himself to be a boy. That boy was apparently in an unnatural relationship with a man, and it had tormented her greatly to accept there might be love between two men. After finishing her narration she blushed and fell silent. When I pressed her to go on, she whispered that she feared I would find her indelicate to refer to such matters. I assured her I did not and gently enquired if she had read the Sixth Satire of Juvenal. Upon her negative answer, found myself disinclined to explain further. Told her I knew of a woman who had dressed in travesty in regimental blues and that it did not shock me. Eleanor said she could understand such desire as she had often felt out of place in the men’s world of medicine. So eonism does not repel her. She has not commented on my style of dress either, something that many have done and which always makes me feel slightly uneasy. If we push our acquaintance further, I may have to give more explanations on those matters.

**_Monday 15 April_ **

Woke up early today, eager to go to the Thrift. Last night, went over our day in my head and tried to decipher Eleanor’s feelings towards me. If we could be alone together I could kiss her and tell her about my connection with the ladies, but I fear she may not understand.

Eleanor performed the operation with a sure hand and much determination, and I trust the man will recover fully. Her stitches would be the envy of many a seamstress and she did not hesitate upon cutting the organ out. Dr. Marsham seemed a competent anaesthetist but a gruff and boorish man – tried vainly to engage him in conversation. I twice managed to put my hands round Eleanor’s waist, but dared do no more as I felt the nurse’s eyes on me. She looked disapprovingly at my manner of dress and at my being in the operating room, and from the glances she exchanged with Dr; Marsham, I guessed him to be in agreement with her. I wonder if I should try to ingratiate myself with them, since they spend many hours with Eleanor.

Once again Eleanor’s father was at his club, and she invited me again for a drink – she offered me whisky this time, and poured us both a healthy dram. She then excused herself to go and change. My imagination went up the stairs with her and very indiscreetly watched her unlace her stays and take off her petticoat.

 

My person remained unfortunately in the lounge and sipped the whisky. When she came back, she was wearing a light-green gown, and I had to work vey hard not to stare at her generous décolletage. As she came to see besides me, I wanted her to sit closer and touch her and I slid a little towards her. She did not seem to mind and I fancy she relaxed a little against me. I kissed her forehead and emboldened by her silent acceptance, cupped her chin in my hand and stole a deeper kiss on her lips, with a little bit of tongue. I felt her stiffen and fear I had outstepped the bounds of her tolerance. I sprang up and immediately began to apologise, saying that I had not meant to be so forward and that I hoped she would forgive my audacity. I said I liked her very much, and I deeply regretted having offended her. She glared at me at first and I almost threw myself at her feet in repentance, but then her glance softened and she grabbed my hand and drew me back to the settee beside her. In an adorable quirk she chewed on her bottom lip and told me I had just surprised her, not offended her. She confessed she too felt attracted to me but felt she could not act on that attraction as she was engaged to be married.  I told her I understood and left soon afterwards, with the promise of another walk in the park in a few days.

I cannot bear the thought that once again the object of my love is promised to another of the opposite sex. I so long for the companionship of a good woman who would live with me that some days I feel as I will go quite mad if I do not find her.

**_Tuesday 16 April_ **

I pleasured myself to sleep last time, and imagined Eleanor laid with me. God have mercy on my soul! It would be so much easier if I could find a woman to be my wife. I believe Dr. Bramwell’s remedy has done me good and the discharge is lighter, although my vagina is still sore and burning at times. Eleanor is at the Thrift today, and I dare not go there again, for fear she gets upset with me. I was invited to make a fourth at whist this afternoon and will go back to my studies this morning – French and algebra, which I have sorely neglected lately.

Whist was enjoyable, but then had to suffer through a long recital of badly played piano music by the hostess, and it quite spoiled my day. I wish people who can play played and people who cannot abstained. Went to bed with a headache.

**_Thursday 18 April_ **

I do not know what to do. When I came to call for Eleanor at the Thrift, I found Dr. Finn O’Neill there. She did not know he was coming and was all flustered and discomposed – but most pretty too. I did the gentlemanly thing and told her she ought to spend her time with her fiancé and not walking with me, and I fancy she felt relieved I did not hold her to our engagement. She invited me to diner at her home tomorrow. I said I would be there, but now I do not know if I can bear it. I might go back to Shibden tomorrow morning – I feel as if London has nothing more to offer to me now she is no longer mine. Not that she ever was mine, but at least in a small measure I could dream of her being so - enough to make my heart beat faster and my queer flutter. As I left the last time on an unwished for kiss and without explaining myself further, I now fear she may find me disgusting and unnatural. How can I persuade her that I wish nothing else than her happiness – and collaterally, mine? If this is my punishment for sinning, God, I pray to you to take pity upon me, as I am most miserable tonight. My heart is sick with wanting and my head is hurting again. If happiness is possible in this world, why is it out of reach for me? Going to bed – melancholy and heartsick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the paragraph in italics is from the original diaries 
> 
> Anne uses "queer" to name the female pudendum


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anne uses "my cousin" to refer to periods  
> as for "kiss", it has a double meaning in her diaries, like in Shakespeare - to kiss, but also to have a sexual intercourse/orgasm with

**_Friday 19 April_ **

Spent a miserable night tossing and turning in bed and did not sleep a wink. At 4am, decided to leave for Shibden directly. At 6am, changed my mind and decided to stay and go to dinner at the Bramwells. I need to see for myself that there is no one for me there. I shall be civil to Dr. O’Neill and refrain from flirting with Eleanor. Then I shall leave for Shibden tomorrow and hope familiar surroundings will help cure my heartache. Maybe I will plan to go to Paris again – London is a wretched city indeed. Discovered my ‘cousin’ visited me during the night, which compounds my misery – have a headache and pains. Will attempt to relieve it by walking. Could hardly swallow anything for breakfast – I have a slight fever and feel very nauseated.

Spent one guinea on a pocket-knife to give to Eleanor in remembrance of me – I wanted to get it engraved, but they could not do it at once. Is it cruel of me to want to get her a reminder of what might have been? Maybe. I do not know, but I know my heart will feel better if she has it. She will have to give me a penny toon and it is one I shall not spend. Took great care with my dress for tonight – I had the maid brush my redingote and press my shirt. Laced my stays a little less than usual as I feel I cannot breathe today. In the hansom, almost had a change of heart again – maybe I should not go. Feel a good deal fatigued and a little queer.

**_Saturday 20 April_ **

What a difference a day makes! Yesterday I felt as if I should go to bed and never leave it again, and today I am restored to health and good humour. The abject cloud of misery that threatened to suffocate me has lifted. I fear it is not Christian of me to rejoice and yet I cannot help it. Finn O’Neill is a scoundrel of the worst kind, and he had deceived my dear Eleanor sorely. When I arrived to dine last night, I found the household in a ferment. Raised voices in the parlour, and the maid all fidgety and tearful. Told me there had been a dreadful row. Before she could say more, the door of the parlour burst open and Dr. O’Neill stalked out. He then threw the front door open and left, I fancy without his hat and cane. As I staid [sic] there, Dr. Bramwell saw me and came to greet me. He did not give many details, but as he believed his daughter thought of me as a friend, he told me the bare bones of the story – Finn O’Neill had come back from America with a wife! And not even a woman, but a child-bride, a backfish of barely twenty. Outraged on Eleanor’s behalf – how could the man cause her such a grievous offence! But at the same time a little flicker of hope lit in my heart – if she was no longer promised, did I have a chance after all…

Dr. Bramwell told me Eleanor had retired to her room, and I offered to go and see her. He said I was most welcome to do so as Eleanor had no close friends in London and he believed a woman might understand matters of the heart better than he did. Found her in near hysterics on the bed. Suppressed my desires to kiss her better and offered a cool cloth and my hand to hold. The maid brought up a glass of brandy and I insisted she drink it. After a little time she was able to sit and she laid against me. I pressed her in my arms and we laid there silent for a good while. Then I asked her if she wanted to talk about him. The situation was even direr than I had thought at first. She could not look at me as she talked – at first she durst not say it, but I must admit I asked her to say the words – he has lain with her – not once but twice, and he has deflowered her. She said she was so ashamed of herself she wanted to die – she was not worthy of anyone anymore. Told her she was only the victim of a trickster and a cad, and that she should not be ashamed. She wept on my shoulder and said I did not know what harm it would do her if it became known. I suddenly had a distressing idea and asked if she may be with child, but she denied. Then thought of my own predicament and hoped she had not had the same misfortune but did not mention it as I do not know how to speak of it. If we ever were to lay in bed together and kiss, I would have to find a way to do so.

I petted and consoled her for a little while longer and then durst offer Shibden as a place where she could recover from her disappointment. At first she demurred and said she could not possibly leave the Thrift, and I made the mistake of saying that surely the poor of the East End would do without her. I wished I had not said that, for in hindsight it was slighting to her and her work. I would not have liked it if she had belittled my work on the estate, but I confess I do not understand why she cares so much about them. She gave me a death stare and I would have died gladly had she not forgiven me, but I bowed my head and begged her pardon a thousand times and she finally relented and kissed me on the brow and said she forgave me. I durst ask her again if she would come home with me and she said she would ask her father if he consented. I left with that in my heart and this morning received a note saying he had agreed to the plan. I could not be happier if I wanted to. She asked for a day to prepare and we are to leave tomorrow morning. Written to my aunt to say I would have a companion but the letter will not arrive in time. No matter – I am sure Eleanor will be made most welcome at Shibden, and I trust the quietness of the place will be balm to her soul. I shall endeavour to console her too, and maybe to kiss her too. I shall not force or cajole her as that scoundrel has, but will try to charm her and make her understand my connection to the ladies. The thought gives me much excitement, and I am going to bed with the hope that soon  I can fall asleep in her arms and kiss her.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Monday 22 April_ **

Exhausted and headachy, but home at last, and with the object of my affections. The railroad is a wonderful invention. Glad I chose it and not the stagecoach for our return to Shibden. A dirty and noisy machine, and some of the travellers as uncouth and vulgar as in the coach, but it got us home more speedily. A wise American said “a house is not a home unless it contains food and fire for the mind as well as the body”, and certainly Shibden does not lack nourishment for the soul, but I felt ashamed of my own abode tonight. No one up to welcome us. Had to ring for the servants. All but Cordingley gone to a village fair – my aunt had allowed it, but it was sorely incommodious. No fires in the rooms, nothing to eat but cold cuts and a little cheese. Eleanor did not reproach me anything, but I felt mortified by the inconvenience. Why did I bring her here? When I am away I forget the place is not yet mine and as I wish it would be. Shabby and scruffy, and with rooms so congested one can hardly breathe. Cold gusts reminded me of the draughty windows and I felt chilled to the bone, even close to the fire. Odd and inconvenient – my home mirrors what is often thrown at me. Then the apotheosis – the roof is leaking and the guest bedroom uninhabitable. Offered Eleanor my bed and said I could sleep in an armchair. She wearily accepted and retired at 9. Tried to get into Lord Byron’s – the volumes I bought in London – but to no avail. My mind is in my bedroom, my body wishes it were in bed with her. Dispirited and low.

**_Tuesday 23 April_ **

Woke up with the lark. Back achey and head sore. Cannot sleep on that chair again – too damn uncomfortable and cold. Had a little bread and milk and a sp. of Daffy’s elixir – my bowels have been sluggish for a few days. Sent Cordingley to see if Eleanor was awake – wanted to go myself, but feared she would consider it indelicate if I were to see her in her nightclothes. Must talk to her today. Or maybe it is too soon. I do not know.

Eleanor joined me in the breakfast room but shew [sic] no appetite. Attempted to make her smile by recounting how I had helped Mrs. Hold give birth to twins last years and how her husband had fainted when I had shown the babies to him. He did not want two. Did not think it would make her cry but so it did. Offered my own handkerchief to her, took her hand and kissed it. She told me it was coming up to the date of her mother’s death and that she had died in childbirth. Then she told me about her friend Victoria who thought she was with child and had syphilis. She was burning with anger at her friend’s husband and at the barbaric treatment offered. She said it did great harm that people believed such illnesses could be got by the water on the Continent, but even more harm that women should be considered hysterical at the least show of temper. Then she blushed and said she should not speak of such things in polite company. Her father has chastised her for it more than once and she was afraid it would repel me. Told her I was not at all repelled and that it interested me greatly.  That I was in agreement with her about the practice of ovariectomy – removing a woman’s ovaries is no cure for hysteria.  Relieved she does not trust such absurd theories – it would have disappointed me greatly if she had – I believe she is intelligent and learned, even if she knows no Greek and little Latin. Asked her if she knew of other techniques to cure hysteria. She said she thought opiate tonics and cocaine could help, but she had heard of places where the women were treated with cold baths and shock treatment, even “to their private parts” and these sounded monstrous. I was greatly pleased she could speak of such topics without apparent discomfort now I had told her it did not appal me. I asked if she had heard of pelvic massages until paroxysm. She had but were not these the practice of charlatans? Said I thought not. Told her in Paris they used douches aimed at the queer to reach that paroxysm. Saw her eyes grow wide with wonder – or disgust? I pray not. Then I told her in America they had invented a steam-powered manipulator, to the same intent. Stupid, blithering fool! Why did I have to mention America? Her eyes moistened again and I begged her to forget my slip. I drew her to me till she sat on my lap and offered comfort as much as I could. She trusted me as a child does a parent, letting her head drop on my shoulder and nestling in my arms, and I had to exercise the utmost restraint to behave properly. I longed to feel her breasts and touch her. I held her strongly and her heart against mine beat in unison. I murmured I was sorry she had been so caddishly wounded. She said she hated all men – they were all blackguards, not to be trusted. She said she had been a fool and had acted rashly and without much thought to the consequences. She would never have faith in anyone again. She would never marry and be content with the demands of her profession. This gave me both hope and despair, as I cannot conceive a lifetime union without a marriage. I told her I would not want to be married to a man, but that a life without love was a bleak outcome. That love surely overcame everything else in the world and companionship needed by a human soul. That two women could aspire to the same felicity as in wedded bliss if they were so inclined. I told her I had long searched for what made me the way I am and had found no difference in body, only in mind. My mind, my soul is not of common essence – it makes me eschew traditional unions for a connection with women, and isn’t it purer than self-pollution? She blushed and I ignored her warning.   _I said ladies could often hear from a man what they could not from a woman. She allowed this, saying it depended on how she loved them. Got on the subject of Saffic [sic] regard. Said there was artifice in it. It was very different from mine & would be no pleasure to me. I liked to have those I loved near me as possible, etc. Asked if she understood. She said no._ My throbbing heart may have given me away for she eyed me strangely. I had said too much not to go on. I said I had come to care for her very much in very little time, and I would be able to love her very easily if she would only return a fraction of my affections. I thought she may take fright and leave but she remained.

 I thought she may be as excited as I and drew her face towards me and kissed her lips deeply, intent on showing her my intentions but she sprang from my lap and smacked me with such force my teeth rattles. Blood rose to my cheek from the blow as much as from shame. My eyes blurred with tears. I behaved as if she had been as worldly as Mrs Barlow. Should not have hurried things so. I forgot myself. She will never forgive me. I followed her out but she cried she wanted me to leave her alone.

 7.10 and Eleanor is not back. Dusk is falling. She does not know the neighbourhood and. If something happens to her, Lord have mercy on me – I shall never forgive myself. Have to go and look for her.

 

**_Wednesday 24 April_ **

My own behaviour displeases me so much I hardly dare write it down. If I cannot control my passions, I am no better than a vulgar Lothario. Attempted to show Eleanor how contrite I was last night, but she would not look at me. Spent the night on the armchair again, but most of it pacing in the library. A sleepless night is not much for penance, but my eyes today look old and weary and my chest is tight and constricted. Shall attempt today to talk to Eleanor and pray she will listen. I shall tell her I behaved abominably and am not worthy of her affection, but I cannot help loving her and beg her not to despise me in return. She has come down to breakfast and was civil to my aunt, but not a word to me. She ate little and I even less – I have no appetite for food.

Had many tasks to do today – the hedges in the upper field need planting and Hotspur [Anne’s horse] a new shoe – but I cannot do anything not knowing if Eleanor has forgotten me. My aunt told me she had gone to the rose garden – I pray she will show me her petals and not her thorns.

As soon as I saw her sitting there staring with red-rimmed eyes into space, I hurried to her and sank to my knees, telling her I did not deserve her pardon nor her leniency, but if she did not find it in herself to forgive me I would be the most wretched woman on Earth. I had not intended to assault her and I merely acted in the throes of desire. I durst not look at her face lest I saw on it them the contempt I deserved and was most surprised when I felt her hand in my hair. I durst then lift my eyes to hers and saw my own anguish reflect in them. Between bursts of sobs she told me she had never meant to hurt me but she had taken fright at my behaviour. She was very sorry to have slapped me and hoped she had not injured me.  I said I had been mad and I would not bother her again. She astonished me further by caressing the cheek where her hand had left me burning and red last night, and then kissing me on it. This time I durst not move for fear she would again flee from me. She said she did not know how to love anymore – that wretched O’Neill had left her in such torment she thought she ought to shut her heart to such emotions. She feared I would find her cool and aloof and unresponsive to kindness. For it must be kindness on my part since I could not possibly desire O’Neill’s leavings. Then I could not restrain myself any longer and sitting beside her, I took her in my arms and pressed very tenderly, kissing her cheeks and her neck. I told her there was no woman more worthy of my affections than her. That I would do anything to make her forget that scoundrel if only she would let me. I got my hand under her petticoats, forgetting we were outside, and though her thighs remained tight together she did not protest. She had gone out without a coat and I offered her my own cape to walk home. Wind icy and wet. We sat by the fire and read and played a little piano for my aunt. Eleanor has a tuneful voice that pleases me very much. Tonight she said she would not want me to catch a cold sleeping in the chair again, and I should come up to bed with her. I accepted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obviously I had to decide whether Anne lived in Victorian times or Eleanor in Georgian . I chose to make Anne a Victorian, since otherwise it would have been impossible for Eleanor to be a doctor. ... so ... there will be a few anachronisms. 
> 
> Mrs Barlow was Anne's lover in Paris. Cordingley is her servant.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Thursday 25 April_ **

Woke up at 6, with Eleanor pressed against me in sleep. Kissed her hair and her shoulders without waking her, and when she did, pretended to be asleep to see what she would do. She did not move from the bed. Was so heated I could not pretend any longer and pressed her too. Kept pottering about and put my hands on her breasts. She did not forbid me to so I kept on and fondled her over her nightclothes. She stopped me from going under it but I fancy she was a little excited too. She laughed and said I was tickly and got up.

 

I followed and kissed her again in the neck many times until she pushed me away and began to dress. I did too and offered to brush her hair for her. She has such splendid hair I would have played ladies’ maid a thousand hours for her. When at breakfast, sat next to her and rubbed my foot against her leg. Then put my hand over her knee. My aunt and uncle did not notice and it gave me great pleasure to see her go red. After breakfast, Eleanor said she had to talk to me. I said I would gladly listen but had to see Rawson about the mines and would walk with her afterwards. An adorable pout rose on her lips but I staid [sic] firm – she shall be mine but I need to clear my head. Am in such a state I fear I would go to Italy on the spot and it would not be the best course of action. Told her I would see her in an hour and went out.

My mind was half on Rawson’s ramblings and half in the drawing room. He wants 5d. a corve and I shall not settle for more than 4d. Bad budgeting. Cannot waste money I do not have on inefficient husbandry or management of resources. I shall sink my own pit before I let him have his way. Cannot fault Eleanor for not allowing me further – indeed, I would be disappointed if she shewed more wantonness, but I shall use all manners of gentleness to persuade her. I am hopeful her need to talk shall entail her telling me she has developed a little fancy for me and wishing we could become close. I shall not tell her yet about my ailment – there is no need for her to know.

Spent 3 hours of the afternoon with Eleanor in the library, many on my knees reassuring her. It is neither a crime not a sin. She has been much affected by the words of her former patient, and fears it is as unnatural btw. women as btw. men. Told her there was nothing in the Holy Book about women, and that I would not behave illegally nor condone anything that would be abhorrent to God. Women cannot commit the crime of Ham and so the law could not condemn us. Went even further – she is a doctor, she knows women are made differently from men and men have outside what we have inside – surely she can trust science if she cannot trust my word. Then had to reassure her. She had not led me on – I came by my own will and desire and wish very much to convince her of my sentiments. I have come to like her very much, and even to love her. I feel I need her with me and close to me. I can protect her and cherish her as no man would. Our union would be blessed by love alone and surely that should be enough. I recited a few lines by a French poetess « Mais si l'amour d'une main sûre / T'a frappée à ne plus guérir, /Si tu languis de ta blessure /Jusqu'à souhaiter d'en mourir, /Devant tous, et devant toi-même, /Crois-moi : /Par un effort doux et suprême, /Tais-toi ! » (But if love’s sure hand/ hit you with an incurable blow/ If you languish from your wound/Till you wish for death/In front of all and yourself/ believe me/ By a tender and supreme effort/ Hush!”). If my words did not convince her, if science does not support my cause, poetry may win her over.

 Tried to put my hand under her petticoats and she pushed me away, but with a playful hand and she did not seem unduly vexed. Attempted to get her to admit she was a little enamoured too. She bit her lips and silently nodded. Victory! Short-lived since I got scolded for being too affectionate. Tried to fumble again but she again put me off, saying what I wished from her was indecent and painful. I fear her experience with that O’Neill has made her wary of any tenderness or kiss. Must change my manner. Apologised for having behaved badly in bed last night and promised I would not go where she did not want me to. I am concerned that she finds it painful. Shall attempt to change her mind.

Went walking for the rest of the afternoon. Then she wrote to her father while I read the paper – I could happily accept that for the rest of my life, if only there were a little tenderness between us too. I cannot live alone nor without loving affection. After supper, we sat in the library and she refused to sit on my lap, but I had my hand on hers and the other on her neck and she did not protest. Retired early as the library got cold – must see whether we can heat the place without too many costs. I pray tonight we can kiss.

**_Friday 26 April_ **

Could not rest easily last night – my head hurt and when Eleanor offered her help, told her I was in need of love and not medicine. She laid her hand on my brow and her cool touch soothed me so well I felt I had to try and kiss her. I kissed her wrist and licked it a little, and she giggled but did not push me away. I knelt on the bed and kissed her on the lips with tongue and she laid still, so I kissed her again more passionately and let my hand on her thigh and towards her queer. Then my hand fondled and pressed her breasts under her nightclothes and I felt them grow plump and hard. I grubbled and caressed her and put my leg between her thighs. She cried out a little but moaned too and encouraged I put my fingers too. Captured her mouth with mine and not pushing too hard but a little, tried my finger inside. Was careful not to hurt her and felt her grow warm and wet. Put another finger and she shuddered all over and clung to me. Excited and very heated and wet too.

_When it was over she put her handkerchief to her eyes &, shedding a few tears, said, ‘You are used to these things. I am not.’ I remonstrated against this, declaring I was not so bad as one thought me & injustice like this would make me miserable, etc. She blamed herself, saying she was a poor, weak creature. I conjured her not to blame herself. It was all my fault. I loved her with all my heart & would do anything for her._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extract from the poem "Crois-moi" by Marceline Desbordes-Valmore (1786-1859)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem "The Definition of Love" by Andre Marwell, a 17th-century poet from Yorshire

_Saturday 17 April_

I am more & more in love with Eleanor every passing day, but my body does not let me rest. Dr. Bramwell’s cure is no longer of use and I fear I will have to see him again or find another remedy. Terrible itching and redness. Decided to increase the dose of mercury to twice a day and added a mix. of pearl barley and nitrate in water. The warm baths I will convert to cold in the hope it relieves the pain. The discharge too.

Told Eleanor this morning I thought I should have two thousand a year. Would she be contented with that? She said she was not ready to make further plans & looked worried. She had a letter from her father this morning & since that has looked much preoccupied. When I asked her about it, she flew at me in passion – her father is getting married again. He wants her to live with him and his wife and stop working at the Thrift. He has decided to open his practice in Harley Street. All this sounded like excellent news to me – surely her father will not object to me taking care of her if he is entering a new union. As for the Thrift – I durst not tell Eleanor before, but surely it is no place for a young lady. I understand better than most the need for a woman to use her wits and not confine herself to parlour games and toilettes, but even a thirst for knowledge cannot make one forget her place in society. Were she my wife, I could not possibly let her tend to the dregs of society as she does in that place. I tried to suggest she would have every possible comfort were she to become my companion here – she would have no need to work at that god-forsaken place. Indeed, she would have too much to do as mistress of Shibden to be concerned with the ailments and accidents of all and sundry. Evidently I said something I should not have since she ran away from me into the garden.

Eleanor came back in a mood. She would not look at me nor let me touch her. I decided it would do no good to demand more attention and retired in my bedroom with my books. Dinner was still icy and Eleanor only addressed herself to my aunt and uncle. Miserable. I tried to apologise for anything I might have said or done, but that I did not know what it was angered her all the more. She did not forbid me access to my own bed and room but by the way she laid there I durst not bridge the abyss between us. The sheets remained cold and I wretched. Solitude is all the harder when it is felt in the presence of a loved one.

_Monday 19 avril_

Eleanor is gone. I am in such misery I cannot even express it in these pages. I tried yesterday to put on paper my thoughts & feelings but my head ached and my heart was too heavy for writing. I had believed we could spend many years in married bliss, and her departure has stolen my hopes and happiness. She said I did not understand her. She said I had shown myself insensitive to her needs and she had not thought I could ask of her to live like a lapdog – pampered, petted and enslaved. She plans on finding independent accommodation in London and expanding the Thrift. I have no place in her future.

My eyes fell on a favourite poem that has never rung so true:

_“My love is of a birth as rare_

_As ’tis for object strange and high;_

_It was begotten by Despair_

_Upon Impossibility._

_Magnanimous Despair alone_

_Could show me so divine a thing_

_Where feeble Hope could ne’er have flown,_

_But vainly flapp’d its tinsel wing._

_And yet I quickly might arrive_

_Where my extended soul is fixt,_

_But Fate does iron wedges drive,_

_And always crowds itself betwixt._

_For Fate with jealous eye does see_

_Two perfect loves, nor lets them close;_

_Their union would her ruin be,_

_And her tyrannic pow’r depose._

_And therefore her decrees of steel_

_Us as the distant poles have plac’d,_

_(Though love’s whole world on us doth wheel)_

_Not by themselves to be embrac’d;_

_Unless the giddy heaven fall,_

_And earth some new convulsion tear;_

_And, us to join, the world should all_

_Be cramp’d into a planisphere._

_As lines, so loves oblique may well_

_Themselves in every angle greet;_

_But ours so truly parallel,_

_Though infinite, can never meet._

_Therefore the love which us doth bind,_

_But Fate so enviously debars,_

_Is the conjunction of the mind,_

_And opposition of the stars.”_

 

Fate indeed. Fate has been cruel to me, for had I not met Eleanor, I would not suffer now. Are my physical woes a punishment from God? Was it why He gave them to me to bear – to go to seek a cure and meet an impossible love? Am I destined to live and die alone and unloved? God, when You made me, surely you did not mean to condemn me to solitude? Even the lowliest animal and insect has the instinct and the right to seek a mate, why should I be deprived of the bliss of companionship? I believe I abide by Thy law as best as I can, and if I have offended You I humbly seek your pardon. Give me the strength to accomplish the destiny You have chosen for me and the presence I crave on my path. The paper blurs & I cannot write anymore. May my tears wash away my sorrow.


End file.
